KnowItAll
by miss-cold
Summary: It had started with one of Lisa’s knowitall remarks, the small twist of the lips forming a knowing smirk and the glint in her eyes that always formed when she knew she was right and Bart was too stupid to see it. Slash BxM


**Title: **Know-It-All

**Pairing:** BartxMilhouse

**Disclaimer:** The SimpsonsTM and characters are copyrighted to FOX.

**A/N:** I've noticed the lack of Simpsons slash and decided to rectify the problem.

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**Know-It-All**

It had started with one of Lisa's know-it-all remarks, the small twist of the lips forming a knowing smirk and the glint in her eyes that always formed when she knew she was right and Bart was too stupid to see it. She'd perfected it before she had reached high school.

It was too bad that his kid sister had skipped all those grades and was now currently sitting across the isle from him in his modern history class. He'd ignored her for the most part, content to throw small screwed up balls of paper at the back of the blue haired boy in front of him.

Milhouse turned to glare at him, the blue of his eyes, no longer hidden behind glasses, almost matching the dark blue of his hair. Bart saw Lisa smirk out of the corner of his eye but ignored it.

"Quit it Bart." A voice recently broken, but still holding some of the childish whine.

"What's the answer to number eleven?"

"Ask your kid sister." Bart snorted and rolled his eyes. There was no way he was going to ask Lisa, and the other boy knew it. It didn't help that he had pointed out that Lisa was his 'kid' sister, Milhouse having gotten over his crush on Lisa a while ago, although Bart still doubted the fact.

"Come on Milhouse!"

"Bart, we're going to get caugh-"

"Bart! Milhouse! Detention this afternoon."

"Yes Ms Jackson." The two chorused to the barking voice of the teacher. Even Bart didn't mess with their modern history teacher, he thought she reminded him a lot of Hitler. Small, dark haired and with a machine gun voice that demanded to be obeyed. Usually his prime target, but not after the incident with the hose, the basketball and a punishment that must have come from the very mind of Hades himself.

Milhouse shot him a disgruntled look before turning back to the front to try and finish his paper. Bart rolled his eyes checking the clock and decided he'd never get the test started, not that it mattered, it wasn't assessable and didn't count for any grades. He tore another corner off the paper and carefully aiming, hit Milhouse on the back of the head. The blue haired boy stilled his writing before leaning further over his paper in an attempt to concentrate.

Bart smirked, sitting back, watching the boy in front of him scribbling down answers. They were still best friends, even after their share of fights over girls and the long years of elementary school. Only just last week they'd decided not to let the new transfer student get between them. Of course Bart knew he could have had her easily with his quick wit and bad boy charm like he'd had most of the cheerleading squad, he also knew that if Milhouse had really wanted her he could have snared her.

It'd been developing over the years. Starting with the disappearance of the glasses and the new contact lenses. Milhouse actually had really intense eyes, and the flop of hair without the glasses looked more stylish. As years went on Bart had started to wonder why Milhouse still hung around him, put up with the shit Bart put him through.

It was just his insecurities playing at him but it had resulted in one of the largest fights they had ever had. But they were best friends and they always would be, they had made up and life had returned to normal, but now Bart had become conscious of Milhouse, noticing more about him, the small pinch at the corner of his mouth when he was upset but went along with Bart's plan anyway. The gleam in his eye when the plan went off without a hitch. Even the fact that the pale skin looked too smooth and soft to be guy's skin, his lips full almost feminine.

The boy didn't notice he'd turned out looking rather attractive, he still hung his head so he could hide behind his fringe, or scuffed his toe like a kid. Bart frowned, the only reason he was noticing these things was because he had to keep track of any rivals to his bad boy charm.

A small ball of paper hit him in the side of the head. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Lisa smirking at him, having finished the test long ago. Bart frowned, she'd probably be getting raised another grade by next year, graduating before him.

His sister smiled nodding her head in Milhouses direction and lifting a questioning eyebrow. Bart just scowled, she was too smart for her own good.

The rest of the class involved Bart ignoring his sister, and trying not to stare at the hunched form of his friend who was furiously writing as the minutes ticked by. Milhouse had tried to pick up his studies, something Bart still had no interest in, only just managing to pass and if not, subtly getting moved on, either by teachers who couldn't stand him any longer, or ones he had to 'pay'.

He couldn't see his friend on his knees in the second room of the geography department, hands busy and mouth full trying to erase the F he'd gotten from Mr Anderson at the top of a paper completed the night before. He didn't know why he needed to know anything about geography anyway, he knew the names of the states, why did he have to know about a bunch of mountains and desserts? Places he'd never go to.

The bell rang wrenching him from his thoughts which brought his eyes back to the now straightening boy. He stretched and Bart could almost hear the bones popping from where he sat, the innocent arching of his back and tilting of his neck to show off the pale throat sent a clear reminder to Bart. His friend wouldn't even comprehend cheating, and his very straight and innocent friend could never even comprehend the act of scratching his knees on the hard floor of the geography room.

Bart sighed, he still half heartedly denied the small drop of disappointment every time he thought of just how innocent and straight his friend was, the horror and rejection he'd face if Bart ever told him that he 'fancied' other men. That was all the small drop of disappointment was for, he didn't want to lose the others friendship just because of his sexuality.

Peeling himself off the uncomfortable chair he tried to ignore the reason why he had been avoiding Lisa for the last few days. She'd been dropping him hints for the last few months, which he had played too dumb to figure out. When she had realised he was in denial she had confronted him.

He found himself standing behind Milhouse clutching his half torn empty paper as the other boy handed in his exam. He found himself following the curve of the others neck before pulling his eyes away, Lisa's smug voice in his mind, and the memory of her standing at his door while he lay on his stomach playing a video game from his bed.

"_You like him don't you." A statement which had Bart plunging over a cliff. He frowned, not letting his eyes stray again from the screen._

"_What do you want? Finished your homework?" He asked sarcastically. "Annoy Mags if your bored." _

"_They're all out." she took a step into his room and he realised he was holding the controller a little too tightly. There went another life._

"_Can't you see I'm busy. Go read a book." A dip in his bed as she positioned herself on the other side of his now double mattress. She was getting that look in her eyes, the one that made Bart want to run. Her 'this-is-for-your-own-good' look._

"_Bart. Answer the question."_

"_What was it?" He tried to play dumb, but he could see it wasn't going to work, he just hoped this wasn't the confrontation he thought it was. He'd already let slip his sexuality to her, she seemed to be the easiest to approach and she hadn't told their parents._

"_You like Milhouse don't you?" Bart pretended to look confused._

"_Sure, his my friend." He didn't want to confess this to her. He was still trying to deny it himself, he did __**not**__ lust over his best friend, the blue eyes didn't help to fuel his fantasies and no he didn't thrill to the friendly innocent and accidental touches._

"_Bart." That tone where she was getting into her lecture mode._

"_Don't." He didn't take his eyes from the screen, but his body was tense and he wondered if he'd revealed too much in that single word. The bed shifted._

"_Just be careful." She left the room and he stared at the flashing screen._

_Game Over._

"I see, another great effort from Mr Simpson." A glare as Bart handed over his paper. "Next time try to keep the paper in one piece, and perhaps even apply a little ink to it."

"Yes ma'am." He mumbled heading for the door before he was stopped by the harsh voice.

"Did I say you could leave? You have detention. Take that seat at the front." Her voice changed a little as she regarded the blue haired boy. "Milhouse come with me." She collected the last paper and let the last few students, not having hurried home at the end of the day, out of the room giving Bart a pointed look. "Stay where you are." Then she too left, Milhouse shooting a quick unsure glance over his shoulder as he was led out.

Bart waited for the sound of footsteps to disappear so he could get up, maybe take a quick look in the desk at the front, sabotage a few things, but instead the footsteps didn't move far from the door and there were lowered voices.

"Milhouse…" There were a few words quiet enough for Bart to miss, hearing only the familiar mumble of his best friends reply. Knowing that the tone meant the other boy wasn't comfortable. They were out there for a few minutes and Bart's curiosity got the better of him. He'd have time to sneak back before either suspected he was listening. Getting out of his chair and moving a little closer to the door Bart could make out a little more.

"I know you're good friends with him." There was something about her tone that caught on the edge of Bart's nerves. "But like I just said, he is effecting your work in more ways than one." There was silence and she continued. "I can see Bart could have once had potential, but he's wasted it and now I'm worried he might be pulling you back. I don't want you get distracted like I know you will and let yourself sink with him, you have the ability to make something of yourself."

Bart held his breath, the words stung but his friends silence was even worse. Why wasn't Milhouse denying it?

"Think about it."

"Sure." The uncomfortable tone was still in the other boys voice, and Bart hurried back to his seat feeling cold anger settle in his stomach. He hadn't wasted his potential, he was sitting in class wasn't he? He'd turned up everyday this year as opposed to down the back alley with a joint. Milhouse obviously didn't know anything if he agreed with that bitch. So much for best friends.

He knew he wasn't smart, nowhere near Lisa's standards, and that he'd been left behind a few grades before he'd been boosted back up by teachers who wanted him gone. He really did try, he remembered the study lessons he had had when he needed to pass to the next year. He'd gone to school everyday, sometimes not knowing exactly what the point was when he could have already been pocketing large sums with the Mafia, or at least a few extra dollars down at the Kwik-I mart. But it still hurt to be regarded as a waste of time, a wasted nothing.

He'd made it to his seat and was staring resolutely at the chipped and engraved surface, ignoring both the teacher and his friend as they walked into the room. He missed the woman's small smirk and the concerned look from Milhouse, instead concentrating on his finger nails. The next hour was spent in silence, he didn't look up once from his hunched position and was out the door as soon as he was allowed. He didn't wait for Milhouse, and ignored the boys call.

Heading past the front gates, he'd managed to get to the first street before the other grabbed his arm.

"What's wrong with you?" Panting Milhouse looked surprised by the glare shot his way at his question, tightening the anger in Bart's stomach. He shook him off and continued walking.

"Bart!" Milhouse frowned. "What have I done?"

"Nothing." Bart bit back the stinging in his eyes as he spat out the word. Milhouse caught his stride easily as Bart was shorter by almost a head and a half, having shot up over the last few years, towering over a number of the people in their grade.

"Then what's wrong." Bart merely stared straight ahead as they crossed the road into the seedier part of town. Springfield had grown over the last few years and now Moe's was on the edge of the growing squalor.

"It doesn't matter." He wanted to shake off the other boy. If he thought Bart was nothing, then obviously he wasn't worthy of Milhouse's company.

"Obviously it does. Come on Bart." There was a worried edge to the voice which Bart ignored, leading the two past Moe's. He could almost feel Milhouse's relief as they passed the establishment where Bart had spent a few evenings after their fights or messy break ups with girls.

Bart didn't drink like his dad, in fact he barely touched the stuff until he 'needed' it, he needed to forget, drown everything out. So he'd drink till he passed out, and then once awake, drink until he'd loose consciousness again. He'd found himself in hospital once or twice after his stomach had been pumped, with Milhouse sitting by his side, worry in his eyes, followed by relief as soon as he saw Bart awake. He'd vow never to do it again, but somehow every time he was in need, he'd find himself at Moe's.

Homer didn't say anything about it. Only ringing Milhouse once Bart passed out. Not a word was spoken to his mother, an agreement that meant anything inside the filthy walls was to stay there.

"Bart?" Milhouse's voice held worry in it now as they walked the street. Curious and hostile eyes watched them.

"Go home Milhouse." He avoided looking at his best friend, staring only at the cracked pavement, and the dirty signs advertising topless girls and booze. He quickened his pace, intent on leaving his friend behind. Tonight he wanted to get blind, tomorrow he wanted to drink away the hangover and hopefully by the next day he'd be throwing up on himself in the gutter and drowning in his own vomit. He hoped they'd feel guilty.

"Bart, don't do this." The tone was a little harder and Bart felt the anger roll through him again. He turned to confront his friend, his feet catching on an upraised crack of pavement, and he was falling back. He could almost feel the pavement coming up to meet him, but a strong hand caught in his shirt stopped him from impact. Another wrapped around his waist and he was pulled up against a hard chest and his back pressed against a wall for support. When had Milhouse grown into his awkward body and gained the hard muscle?

"You ok?" Bart only nodded as his friend peered down at him. He could feel his heart racing and his breath coming in quick bursts before pulling himself away, red staining his cheeks.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Bart rasped, trying to fight the embarrassed flush by attacking his friend. He didn't want to think about this now, he needed to get away from the other boy. Needed the haze that alcohol brought, and eventually the darkness.

"I was only trying to help. What's wrong with you today?" Bart couldn't stand the innocent confusion.

"You should've just let me fall. Let me _sink. _I wouldn't want to _drag you down _with me." Bart could feel the heat of his embarrassment turn into anger. Milhouse's eyes widened and he paled.

"How… how much did you hear?"

Bart sneered.

"Enough. I don't think I should spend anymore time with you. I might distract you." Bart almost frowned when he saw tears well in the blue eyes.

"Oh God. I'm so sorry. I didn't… Only Ms Jackson knows, she helped me through a lot. I - I meant to tell you. But…" Bart tried to fit his friends words in with the situation but they didn't connect.

"So you were thinking of destroying our friendship before?" Bart asked a little confused.

"No. I'd never." Milhouse was looking scared, resigned, rejected and accepting all at once. He sniffed. "I'd never ruin our friendship. I'm happy with it, grateful for it. If I have to sacrifice everything else for it than that's fine. It's more than enough."

"Take it easy." Bart frowned, Milhouse was almost in tears.

"I'm sorry Bart. I understand if you don't ever want to talk to me again." He was backing away as he spoke. This was going a little too far Bart frowned, even for Milhouse's melodramatics

"You know I didn't mean it, we'll always be inseparable." Bart shrugged. "That's just the way things are. I'm sure you didn't even mean it."

There was a small silence with Bart waiting for the agreement.

"I meant every word. I'm sorry."

Bart stood dumbfounded. His best friend thought he would never amount to anything, that he was a lost cause.

And then he kissed him.

It was just a small chaste kiss, a soft breath on his cheek, before Milhouse drew back and turned, walking quickly away. Bart stared at the retreating back, ignoring the few whistles from the hookers hanging outside one of the parlours. He could still smell the light musk of his friend where he had leant into him, and the words danced around his head as he tried to figure out how that had resulted.

He turned back around and in a daze walked the rest of the way to his destination, a small basement gay bar. So invisible and unknown that half of Springfield had been there. He'd seen his old school principle in there, Mr Smithers, Lennie, Carl and a few others he saw walking around town with girlfriends or children hanging off them.

What most of them didn't know about was the back entrance that led to one of the upper rooms, it was a kind of bordello that led to a side door in the basement. Bart had worked there during the school holidays, serving and being serviced, only quick jobs, nothing too intense leaving him still a virgin to any actual penetration larger than a few fingers. He had had a fake ID made up stating he was legal, and it had worked for a while, until he'd let slip that he was still in school, but by then he'd already turned eighteen and the fake ID had been scrapped. He'd only been working there for about 8 months before he had actually turned eighteen.

And who didn't believe he'd been held back in school, he had enough background history to make it all believable.

"Hey Bart." A man of early twenties with blonde hair a little darker than Bart's spiked straw mess, waved a green slip in his direction before disappearing into one of the many rooms along the corridor. At the end of the corridor was the small reception office.

"Good evening, Blue Birds, how can I be of assistance?" The sing-song voice floated out down the corridor as Bart ducked his head into the office. The older man on the phone, slightly balding but with a tanned chest that didn't sag with ageing, peppered with slivery hairs, looked up. Catching sight of Bart he rolled his eyes, the mischievous spark in his eyes and the lopsided grin, contrasting with the serious tone of voice.

"Yes. We're fully qualified." There was a pause.

"We have an in house doctor. No."

Another pause. "Professional. Yes. Hospital checks as well."

Bart could see he was resisting tapping his fingers on the edge of the desk like he tended to do when he was impatient.

"Of course. Tonight?" He took out a pen and jotted down a few words. "Young?" He wrote something else down, most likely a description Bart thought. "Of course, you limit all activities, so you don't have to try anything you don't want to, ok?" The older man's voice had dropped to a comforting tone.

Obviously this was a first time customer. Bart had dealt with a few of them, before they had gotten a little more used to their surroundings and had moved onto more vigorous activities.

"Thank you, see you at eight." He placed the receiver down, standing and planting a kiss on Barts cheek and ruffling his hair. "How are you?"

"I need some advice." Bart grimaced. He had come here with the intention of getting pissed, but now he was more confused than anything else. Tony had been one of the first men Bart had gone to, on the advice of the 'Madame' who owned 'The House' where his father had unknowingly sent him to work, after he had broken in and destroyed some of her property.

"Sure, it's been a quiet night. Come round the back." Bart was led to 'the back', a room that contrasted with the simple wooden desk and filing cabinet in the office. It was draped with all sorts of materials that clung to the walls and framed the luscious sofa and double bed. It wasn't a room for entertaining, it was Tony's own luxury, where Bart had often hidden when the world got too confusing.

"Drink?" Bart shook his head and Tony gestured for him to sit without taking a drink himself. "Still on duty." He explained. "So what's wrong kid?"

He was probably the only person who Bart accepted the odd sort of endearment from. He was the only one Tony called kid, as he had been the youngest here, but the name had come with a sense of protectiveness, of a guardianship.

"I…" Bart blinked, he didn't really know what to say, he hadn't come here with the intention of telling Tony anything. But he knew the other man would help him out. "He kissed me."

A low whistle, no need to explain who 'he' was, and Tony sat next to him. "What happened?" Bart grimaced at his clenched fists on his lap.

"I don't know. We had this argument. Just something a stupid teacher said." Bart mused for a while, chewing his bottom lip before launching into the whole story. As he explained it, he tried to figure out how this afternoon had resulted in the small kiss.

At the end Tony shot him a lopsided smile. "Sometimes we don't see what's right in front of us." Bart merely stared at him confused. "You didn't hear everything that was being said did you? And you said your teacher was Ms Jackson?"

Bart nodded but didn't see how this would make anything clearer.

"Betty's a good friend of mine, she's a little uptight at times but you should see her with her hair down." He chuckled and waved his hand. "Anyway, I think maybe your friend Milhouse has a closer relationship with her than you do, I think I remember her mentioning a boy with blue eyes, blue hair, he met the exact same description as your friend. So now I know the two are the same." He smiled. "You see this kid saw her when she was out once with me and one of my exclusive friends."

Tony, called those he dated his 'exclusive friends', Bart had no idea why, but it was another quirk of the man.

"In the next few weeks he had gained a friendship with Betty and most likely encouraged by the fact she hung around and most importantly accepted people like himself, asked her for guidance." Bart stared at him. Milhouse was gay?

"What?" He hadn't realised he had spoken, and what he had actually meant by the question, but Tony shrugged.

"She's grown fond of the boy, I guess its only natural that she wants to protect him from people with reputations like yours, but she realises you two are inseparable. She's quiet the trickster, and no doubt somehow set you two up. She knew you'd be listening in, which was probably why she didn't find someplace more private to talk."

It made a little sense to Bart, but he still couldn't figure some things out. "If she wanted to set us up, why did she say all that shit about me and have Milhouse agree with her?"

Tony tutted and Bart settled before he could get himself riled up.

"Think about it. They were probably talking about how Milhouse likes you, and the end which was the only thing you heard was her warning both you and him of the consequences of your actions. Maybe even a small kick start to get your butt into gear." He smirked at Bart.

"No way man. You're making this all up." A small part of Bart wanted to believe it, but most of him thought the man was trying to draw conclusions from nothing.

"Why do you think Milhouse reacted like that? You told him you didn't want to be around him anymore and he acted like anyone who has been rejected. You sent him some pretty mixed messages, and he acted as he thought accordingly to them. He meant everything he said about liking you because that would be the most important part of the conversation to him, while you only heard and were effected by the last part."

"Sure." Bart did have to admit it made a twisted sort of sense, it did link everything up, but it was a little farfetched. "Thanks." Tony noticed the dubious look and merely smiled.

"We'll find out sooner or later. You free tonight?" He switched topic so fast Bart had to think for a while, before raising a suspicious eyebrow.

"Why?"

"Wanna earn some cash? I know it's a school night and-" He was cut off by Bart's shrug. Continuing with a small smile. "There's a young guy coming in, wants someone young, not too tall, preferably blonde. His a first timer, so he doesn't want anything too fast. I'd like you to show him the ropes, play around a little, you know do what you do best." He grinned. "Charm them."

"Sure." This was almost better than alcohol, getting lost in somebody else's scent, the heedy need that built behind your eyes, the drowning in soft moans and caresses. Or hard and fast. Bart liked it all.

"You heard, he's at eight." A quick check to his wrist watch. "'Bout an hour. If you wanna get ready, I'll set up the room."

Bart nodded, not realising how long he had spent on his story. Standing he stretched, he needed a shower after he had raced off from school, and it never hurt to clean himself up a bit. He was thrown a set of keys.

"Room twelve." Gifting the older man a cocky smirk, he made his way to separate shower rooms meant exactly for this purpose. He'd take his time for this.

As the first warm water hit his skin he sighed. Maybe this was what he needed, something simple and quick, it'd help him forget about this afternoon for a while.

The seedy business man of late twenties sitting in the waiting room wasn't what he had expected, but he grit his teeth, gave the man a smirk and led the way to room twelve. But he tipped well for the little work that Bart did.

A lot of first timers were like that, nervous, shy, with the stench of guilt. Usually that's what made them tip big. And that made the job easy, most were already high off the nervous energy and only needed a touch here or there to send them over. But Bart prided himself in being a tease, drawing out the time.

Bart smiled seductively up at the man who quickly tucked himself away, not allowing Bart to touch him after. He didn't meet his eyes and quickly pulled a wad of cash from his wallet and shoved it in Barts hand.

"Hope to see you again Mister." Bart couldn't help the young tilt he added to his voice and the startled look the man gave him. Bart heard him mutter something about being legally of age as he opened the door and led the man back into the waiting room.

The man grabbed his coat and made his way hastily out of the room, head bent, Bart grinned and turned before his grin fell off his face.

"Bart?" The voice was one of confusion, surprise, shock, horror and guilt.

Bart could only stare, he didn't even notice the other customers in the waiting room, his eyes locked on the wide blue eyes of his best friend.

"Bart?" The boy stepped forward and Bart was already at the door, his feet taking him further into the bordello, into his mortification and horror. He knew he couldn't run away from it, the small chant of 'Oh God Milhouse knows' running circles around his mind as he crashed down the corridor, trying to find someplace to disappear into. Hide the sudden shame at the shock in those blue eyes, he'd stupidly believed he'd be able to keep it a secret, keep everything a secret from his naive, innocent friend.

But at the back of his mind was something a little like relief. Relief that he wouldn't have to hide it from his friend, wouldn't have to lie any more.

He found an unused room and hid in there. His thoughts sinking further.

Not that the blue haired boy would remain his friend for much longer, he was probably already leaving the building in disgust.

But…

But why had he been there in the first place? The boy couldn't have followed him there, he'd seemed surprised to see him.

"Bart?" The voice came from behind the closed door and Bart froze, how had he been found so easily?

"Bart" An older voice. Tony. "I know you're in there, let Milhouse in." Traitor, Bart thought furiously, glancing around the simple room, a double bed pushed to one side, a small cupboard, probably with a few towels and bathrobes, a door which he knew led to a shower and a Jacuzzi. There really was no way to escape, and no where to hide.

He held his breath hoping they'd just leave.

"Bart?" The voice of his friend, unsure, a little afraid but still so calming.

He bit his bottom lip, inching towards the door. He'd have to confront this sooner rather then later, and Milhouse wasn't running in terror. His mind was reeling in confusion and all he wanted to do was go home and hide under his covers, today had been one of those days.

"Let me in Bart."

He paused, hand on the door knob. Nobody may have noticed it, but he always found himself following the wish of his taller friend, going to the movie that the boy wanted to see, sneaking out the back of school to throw rocks into the slimy pond like they did when they first started high school, even lengthening his strides to keep up with the long legged boy. But the other always met him halfway, it was just the way they worked.

"Please?" The plea shot straight through him and Bart squeezed his eyes shut gathering courage, before opening them and then opening the door slowly, only half way, so he stood in the door way, blocking the entrance, hidden by half the door.

Milhouse stood outside, looking almost ready to burst into tears, Tony gave him a quick look Bart couldn't interpret before he disappeared, leaving the two boys together.

"What do you want?" The words came out harsher then he had meant them to.

The other stood silent.

Watching him.

"What do you want Milhouse?" This time the raw quality of his voice, the anger behind it wasn't accidental. He drew back from under the stare.

"How long?" The younger boy bit out, Bart tried to ignore the way the tearful voice clawed at his gut.

"How long since what?" He asked resorting back to childish tactics.

"God damn it Bart!" There was that anger Bart hardly ever saw in the other, the determination and steadfastness as the blue haired boy took a step forward, eyes narrowed. It wasn't often directed at him, but sometimes Bart drew it out just to see the way the emotions played on the face, the furrow in the brow or the way he clenched his jaw and fists, fire in his eyes. "Don't play with me. How long have you been working here? How long have you kept this a secret from me? Please just tell me."

There was a silent plea, please say you don't work here, please tell me it's a mistake.

"What? You don't want a whore for a friend." Bart sneered, looking into those eyes hurt, their accusations stinging. "Can't handle being pals with a fag?" Maybe if he hurt the boy, he'd feel better, wouldn't feel like he was now.

"No that's not-"

"Not what? Why don't you run back to Lisa, the love of your life, back to Ms Jackson, and tell her she was right, that I'm nothing, a whore, not worth your time."

"Bart." The plea was cut short as Bart continued.

"So just-"

Hands clutched at his sleeves, and a mouth clumsily sought his, teeth and tongues clashed and Bart held his breath, rigid at the sensation.

Before he pushed the boy roughly away.

"What sick joke is this? You think you can just use me?" Bart shied away from the touch. "I don't give out freebies. My times expensive."

He saw something flash in those eyes.

"So go back home to your dad and let me do my job."

The jaw clenched and the eyes narrowed.

"Fifty bucks." Bart glared up at the other boy, towering over him. "How much time will that get me?" There was pain in that voice. And the hand that held the note shook.

"Half an hour." Bart said, cold impersonal, feeling like he was falling apart inside as he turned from the door, letting the other follow in behind him.

So this was how their friendship would end. How all the small hopes and dreams would die, in a mockery of a fantasy Bart had created since he'd started working at the place. A small fantasy that Milhouse would stumble into the place, wanting to try out the different scene and Bart would help him with the exploration.

There would be no questions, just acceptance.

A stupid fantasy really.

The door shut behind them with finality and Bart didn't turn to look at the boy.

"Bart…"

"Sit down on the bed."

The boy followed his instructions, sitting and no longer able to use his height to an advantage.

"Bart I just wanted to know." The boy flinched as Bart took a step closer looking almost feral.

"Wanted to know what my dear?" The dangerous but playful voice made the atmosphere almost surreal. As did the way he invaded the others personal space, breath racing along the jaw, as he watched the boy swallow nervously.

"Why didn't you tell me?" The voice held a breathless note to it. An undignified squawk as Bart's hand danced along the other's fly. "What are you doing?"

Bart nipped Milhouse's earlobe, felt a hand on his chest, fingers caught in his shirt, neither pushing or pulling.

"It would seem obvious wouldn't it? It's what you paid for." He bit harder on the flesh between his teeth and the boy cried out, pulling away.

"I only wanted a chance to talk to you." Bart pushed the other onto his back.

"So talk. I can listen and do other things at the same time." His fingers danced on the others shirt buttons, pulling it half open, before he was pushed away roughly, and felt himself get rolled, pinned on his back the other straddling him.

"God damn it Bart." The voice was raw and Bart was surprised to see Milhouse had tears in his eyes. The beautiful, blue eyes that stared down at him.

The eyes of his best friend. He felt the reality kick him in the chest and he squeezed his eyes shut, his wrists pinned above him on the bed, caught in the grip of the other, caught so easily by him.

What had he tried to do?

"I didn't ever think it'd be like this. I never thought..." There was a sob caught at the back of the others throat, Bart could tell he was fighting it. "You're not a whore. You're not. You're my best friend."

A sob escaped and blue hair was suddenly buried against his throat, silent tears lost in the crook of his neck as his best friend enveloped him, collapsed, shaking on top of him.

Bart felt tears catch at the sides of his eyes as he stared up at the ceiling, his hand coming up on its own accord to wind itself in the blue locks.

"But I can't be your best friend any more." The soft whisper sliced through Bart and he felt his heart stop for a moment. It didn't break or shatter, the world didn't fall away, but it hurt, hurt like hell.

"I can't be your best friend coz I can't pretend anymore, can't pretend that that's all you mean to me. Ms Jackson told me to be careful, but I need to take more risks, I need to take this risk." Bart could only hold his breath listening to the whisper murmured against his neck, lips playing on his sensitive skin.

"She said I had to be careful around you, but that's not true, I have to care for you, because you don't know what you're doing to yourself and you never look both ways before jumping, and I can't let you keep doing that." The words kicked into him and Bart tried to work it all out. "That's all I want to do, but I can't because you hate me now, because you think you're nothing, but you won't listen when I try to tell you or show you that you're everything to me. And I'm sorry for that…"

The words deteriorated.

"Maybe I should've tried harder."

Bart couldn't help the way his grip tightened on the boy, holding on to him, lips brought to the top of the blue head.

"Maybe I should've trusted you more." Bart began. "Maybe I should've trusted myself more. I just… I didn't know what you'd do if you found out I was gay, or if I worked here. Don't get me wrong. I don't think there's anything to be ashamed of, it's just I didn't want to loose you. Didn't want to see that look on your face." Bart paused, still beneath the other boy. "I… the look on your face when you saw me here… I didn't know what to do."

He gave a dry laugh.

"Today's been so fucked up."

"Bart?" Bart's breath caught in his throat as the boy's blue eyes caught his, only inches away from his own. They glimmered. He could only make a confused noise in the back of his throat. "I know I shouldn't ask, but I can't help it." The boy looked away. "Are… did you… have you been paid to have sex?"

Bart froze beneath the other, finding it suddenly difficult to breath, even though the other wasn't looking at him.

"I… I'm still a virgin." He blurted out, blushing furiously under the startling gaze of the other. Bart almost whimpered at the loss of warmth as the taller rolled off him onto his back beside him on the bed.

"What?! But how? I mean all those cheerleaders, the other girls?"

"I actually meant with men, but er yeah, that too." He blushed. "Couldn't get much further then heavy petting otherwise they'd notice I couldn't… stay up."

This was probably the most embarrassing conversation he had ever had, and his ears were burning to prove his point.

A low whistle. "Wow, I didn't expect that. I always thought… thought you were straight."

Bart couldn't help the slightly hysterical chuckle that escaped him. "Me? Straight? Fuck I've been lusting after you since primary school."

The silence that followed made Bart want to eat his words, he hadn't meant to say that, hadn't meant to let those words out to be confronted. He felt Milhouse shift on the bed next to him, but he didn't look at the boy, staring at the ceiling instead.

"Well… I wish you'd told me that back then, we wouldn't have missed out on so much time." Bart felt the whisper against his earlobe and turned to come nose to nose with the other.

"So…"

"So Bart Simpson. After this fucked up day… do you want to go out with me?"

Bart blinked. He hadn't actually ever thought about dating, just… just the getting together part, but this sudden new development sent butterflies racing through his stomach, not fuck that, birds, really big birds. He swallowed and gave a nervous grin.

"Sure."

"Good." Milhouses arm had already pulled him closer, warm fingers tracing just under the hem of his shirt as lips caught his. Bart felt the other suck the very life out of him as he tried to breath and think. When had Milhouse learnt to kiss so well?

Bart felt his heart racing and couldn't help but open his mouth to that expert tongue. Couldn't help but shiver and sigh as those hands worked their way over his skin. He felt the moan rather then heard it, wasn't sure if it was his or Milhouses's the way it vibrated through them both.

His hands were working on the buttons, fingertips rasping across the pale smooth skin of the others throat. He was pulled under the other as Milhouse straddled him working his shirt off, mouth finding his neck, larger rougher hands running down his body as Bart arched up, trying to get as much contact as he could.

And the world was reduced to tangled sheets and the feeling that kept building in his throat, blue eyes and the way the bruised lips of his friend curled into that small satisfied smile against his skin.

"I want you to stop working here." The words were whispered and the only reason Bart heard them above the pounding in his ears was because the lips on his skin had stopped, and the grip on his wrists returned and tightened.

He looked up his friend, eyes half lidded, could feel the frustration radiating off himself. He twisted but the grip on his wrists stayed, the knees on either side trapping him pinned him more firmly.

"What's it to you?" He hissed, suddenly aware of their position. He was going to give this up anyway as soon as school ended and he left Springfield, but being told to quit… Was Milhouse ashamed of him? Of who he was?

"I would've thought it was obvious." The other's eyes narrowed as he lent forward, words whispered against Bart's lips and Bart couldn't help but feel a little vulnerable in his position, but couldn't help feel the power of the other, the way it sparked something in him.

He struggled a little again, just to feel the grip on him tighten.

"Obvious? That you're ashamed of me?"

A flicker of uncertainty in those blue eyes, and the grip loosened a little.

"I'm not ashamed of you." A kiss to his temple, blue hair framing Bart's face, dancing across his cheekbones.

His Milhouse was back, almost awkward in his own body, uncertain, shy and quiet.

"Tell me you understand when I say that. There's nothing." a kiss to his forehead. "about you." a kiss to his jaw, along his jaw. "that I'm ashamed of." A chaste kiss to his lips and Bart darted his tongue out, letting his actions speak the eloquence he could never word. The other melted above him and Bart felt himself smirk into those lips.

Before they were drawn back suddenly, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. The awkwardness was gone.

"But I want you to quit." Bart felt himself tense, but blinked in surprise as the other twisted his hips in just the right way, causing him to gasp, hardness on hardness. "Because." An almost feral grin, as teeth bit into his bottom lip. "You're mine."

Bart shuddered, a small whimper escaped his throat as the other dominated him, teeth rasping against his throat.

"I think you like it." The mouth moved, teeth nibbling his earlobe, wrists caught, body forced into stillness as he tried to rise against the body that had pinned him down effectively. The harder he struggled, the less he was allowed to move, his blood pounding at the feeling of being trapped, could feel the bulge uncomfortable in his jeans, trapped as well.

"Like what?" He rasped out, trying to ignore this new knowledge, before his mouth was forced open by a rough tongue and he submitted to it, to the feel of the other on top of him, the slow rocking motion the more powerful hips had started. The grip on his wrists tightened as he tried to bring them down into the blue hair, his heart skipped.

"This." It was a hiss, and Bart realised Milhouse knew exactly what he was doing. It left Bart scrabbling at the edges of his sanity.

"How…" He managed to gasp out as the mouth made his heart beat faster, louder. "how do you know." He swallowed a mouthful of air "How do you know what you're doing so well?" The words strung together.

"I'm not a virgin." The words sent splinters of shock racing across his skin, and Bart had to try and think, but the mouth was distracting. "Man or woman."

Time stood still.

"What?" He squawked, but at the same time Milhouse's hand had reached the fly of his pants, the other still holding his wrists. Fingers working away at the boundaries as his mind split into different realities, destroyed all fantasies that he'd be Milhouses's first.

"Milhouse." His voice was strained as he tried to struggle against the heavier body, feeling a lot less exhilarated.

"Shhh, I want you to relax." The kisses had turned gentle, the hand no longer moving lower, just gently stroking his side along the two pressed bodies. "Want you to relax." The repeated murmur helped Bart's sudden nervous tension, but he couldn't let go of the thought.

A kiss to his lips, and he fought against looking into those eyes.

"Wanted to you to be first, but I didn't have a choice." A kiss to his top lip, chaste. "Thought you were straight." The slow rocking had started again. "but I still wanted to try, but wanted the experience, wanted to show you how good this could be, how good it can be to let another take control."

A pause as Milhouse let his hands wander again.

"Wanted to make you mine properly."

Bart tensed at that. Was he going to loose his virginity tonight? To this Milhouse he didn't even know?

The other must have felt him tense, another chaste kiss to the side of his mouth.

"But we don't have to do anything more if you don't want to, just let me… let me taste you." His mouth was plundered and Bart felt dizzy, gasping as hands freed him from his pants, he realised his wrists had been released, but he kept them up there, enjoying the vulnerable state it left him in as the other made his way down his chest, fingers, lips, tongue racing each other over and over, teasing him.

He felt himself arch up, felt the warm breath on the top if his thigh and he opened his eyes to lock gazes before the blue eyes were diverted and Milhouse swallowed him whole.

He cried out. Bart Simpson, who often gave better then he got, but never responded much either way, writhed and moaned like a bitch in heat as lips, tongue and mouth worked in unison. And he couldn't do anything as his hips were held down forcibly, he knew he'd have bruises but the thought slipped his mind before it had even formed and stars burst at the back of his eyes as Milhouse sucked and tongued at him, using all the little tricks Bart had learnt, all the small things that had his clientele melting under him

Where had Milhouse learnt this?

It didn't matter as a finger traced his spine, and Bart wormed under the sensation, wanting but not being able to ask as he gasped, but his best friend read him so easily, slipping that finger into Barts mouth, letting him suckle at it before it was removed before moving further circling around his puckered entrance before pressing in slowly and Bart forced himself to relax before bucking violently as the finger curled.

He was held in place, unable to move to the rhythm Milhouse had set, too slow and too soft, teasing. Blue strands of hair brushing his stomach, his thighs, caressing him. He twitched and the pressure increased to the sound of his panting and small moans.

He whimpered as the mouth left him

"Smithers."

Bart blinked at him. What was he talking about?

His confusion must have been obvious. "You asked me where I learnt everything."

He must have said that out loud.

Before he could say anything, before his mind could quite comprehend, Milhouse had swallowed him again, this time with just the right pressure to stop any thought besides the warm, wet the surrounded him. He opened his mouth , but a second finger was added and he arched his back. Hips snapping up and back with the sudden freedom.

Milhouse hummed in approval.

Worlds exploding, his mind melting.

A strangled cry.

Milhouse.

He came to, still shaking.

An awkward silence.

"Oh." Bart couldn't really think of an answer, his mind still hazy. "Knew Smithers was gay." He chuckled shakily, eyes stuck to the ceiling. He wasn't really sure he knew what had happened, what was happening.

"Bart?"

"Mmm?" He turned to his best friend and gave him a grin.

"Was… was it ok?"

Bart let out a surprised laugh.

"Best ever." Then suddenly it struck him. His best friend was gay, he honestly hadn't seen that coming, but not only that, he was experienced, wanted to be with Bart and… and had just gone down on him.

Bart smirked tiredly up at the other, pulling him in for a kiss, his hand finding the others belt buckle.

The rest of the evening was forgotten as the two explored each other, lost to the world until early morning.

Lisa smirked as her brother threw small screwed up ball of paper at the back of his best friends head. It seemed like any other day, but she shot him a knowing look.

"About time."


End file.
